


Turn the Page

by Fey_Nikola



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Apple Shenanigans, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fey_Nikola/pseuds/Fey_Nikola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezio has gone to Cappadocia, leaving Sofia's safety to Yusuf. Not knowing of the Assassins, nor why she should be afraid, she tries to go about her business as usual. Protecting her may not be easy for Yusuf, but there is an interesting side benefit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn the Page

**Author's Note:**

> Another fill from the AssCreed kink meme.

“I’m sorry, but whether you’re here for my safety or not, I cannot turn away my appointments.” Sophia piled the sheaf of loose paper on her desk, weighing it with a quartz crystal to keep any of the pages from moving. Yusuf crossed his arms in exasperation. The mid-ranked recruit shuffled uneasily one last time and left to scout the enclosed garden again.

“I appreciate your need to support your business, but your life is in danger. To keep you safe, it would be best for you to simply close shop and disappear.” Yusuf sighed. Sophia shook her head, fetching several different pieces of leather in various shades and sizes.

“This man is the finest bookbinder in the East, perhaps in the entire world! It took two years of carefully constructed letters and perfectly chosen gifts to be granted this appointment, and even if he brought murderers and demons with him I would refuse to turn him away!” Sophia planted herself in front of Yusuf and poked him once in the chest for emphasis.

Helplessly, he raised his hands in surrender. “If we let him come here, will you turn away all the others and close the shop?” At the flaring of her nostrils he gave her his most charming grin. “Just until Ezio returns?”

Sophia’s narrowed eyes scanned his face. He could see the calculations going on under the surface. Her mouth twitched, but she held back her smile long enough to nod solemnly. “Until Ezio returns. And he’d better have a good explanation.”

\-----

The late evening air was heavy with the scents of the street; perfumes and cloth, the dust off the stone streets, plants and meats which had sat out under the sun all through the long day. The inside of the shop would have incense and aging paper added to the cacophonous scent, and Yusuf was grateful for the slight breeze whispering over the rooftops. A newer recruit passed behind him, tapping him twice on the shoulder. Yusuf relaxed minutely; the guard patrols remained regular in number and frequency.

In the street below, a middle-class lady and her handmaid passed by swathed in cloth. A merchant arguing with a moneylender nearly ran over an old lady, and she harangued them as they left. A boy tormented a little girl with an insect, and she shrieked and ran to their mother who scolded them both. Dozens of lives, seen in snatches of time, all going one way or another as Yusuf watched from Sophia’s roof. Any one of them could be an enemy in disguise.

Ezio could not return swiftly enough.

Then there came a man. Neither tall nor short, young nor old. The crowds seemed to sense his coming and made way without even noticing. He walked with a purpose, his steps light and his eyes constantly scanning. The left sleeve of his handsome dark green robe was pinned up to his shoulder, but his balance showed that it was an old wound, long since compensated for. In his wake trailed a young man dressed as a fish monger and carrying a small crate who had to jog to keep up.

As Yusuf watched him head unerringly to Sophia’s door, the man looked up directly at him. They held contact for only a few seconds, but Yusuf saw the man take the measure of his soul in a moment. Those last few instants were merely acknowledgement.

He couldn’t help himself.

He dropped down to the street in a clatter of weaponry and bravado. The advanced recruit who had been guarding the door did not startle, though the mid-level at the corner nearly drew his sword in surprise.

“Dropping that crate would cost you more than your life is worth.” The man warned his porter. The young man, who looked like he’d nearly pissed himself, shut his mouth and readjusted his grip on the apparently expensive case of supplies. The man himself looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Hello.”

“Hello. I’m afraid this shop isn’t serving customers today. Please come another day.” Yusuf smiled and spread his hands apologetically.

“Then it is a good thing for you that I am no customer, seeing as I have not come so far to be turned away at the door by a poor excuse for an acrobat.”

Yusuf put a hand to his breast. “A _poor_ excuse? Your words wound me, master.”

“I will use more than words if you do not let me in. It has been a long journey for this favor, and I am not over-fond of travel.”

“Then you are the bookbinder I’ve heard so much of? Please, allow me to escort you inside.” A flick of his fingers had the advanced recruit relieving the fish monger of his burden in exchange for a few coins. Yusuf bowed his head cordially and swept an arm toward the door. “This way.”

The scent of incense was not as strong as he had guessed, though the pervading musk of old books made up for it. He heard the man inhale deeply as they entered.

“Yusuf, is something- Ah, _Maestro_!” Sophia smiled widely and hurried to the stairs to greet them.

“ _As-salaam 'alaykum_.” The man murmured at the top of the stairs, stepping aside to let the recruit pass by with the crate. Yusuf remained at the master’s shoulder, watchful.

“ _Wa 'alaykum salaam_.” Sophia’s accent was not too terrible, and her enthusiastic smile made up for any mistake. “I was worried that my directions were too vague; I’m glad you’ve arrived safely _Maestro_.”

“ _Nessun difficoltà_ ; my ship was merely delayed.” The master watched like a hawk as his crate was delicately set down on Sophia’s desk. The recruit nodded to Sophia, who graced him with a grateful smile, then departed back outside. Yusuf shut and barred the door behind him.

“Well, I have the translated copy of the manuscript here, though I would love if you would read through it before you begin.” She stopped herself, embarrassed, as they walked over to her desk. “That is, if you will have time. It is already so late; you _must_ spend the night. But I would hate to delay you further.”

“If it is no trouble to you, I have no pressing engagements for several days.” He was removing the quartz to pick up the top page of the sheaf of paper and so did not see Sophia’s face light up with sheer delight.

“It is no trouble to me.” Her voice was calm, but her happiness shone through. The dour master even seemed near to smiling at her in return. “There is a cot in the garden,” She gestured. “You are free to use it since I am to be spending my nights… elsewhere.” This last word was directed with amused annoyance to the Assassin who waited behind them. When the pair at the desk turned to look at him, Yusuf merely smiled harmlessly.

“I… see.” The master gave Sophia an evaluating glance while she playfully swatted at Yusuf. “Then I would like to ask you a few questions before you leave for the night _Madonna_ Sartor.”

Yusuf crossed his arms and leaned against a bookshelf, watching as they began to discuss the cover and illuminations. Sophia had returned from the printing press in Adrianople full of ideas, and the master was a veritable fount of knowledge. The sunset painted the room with a soft golden glow through the slats of the shuttered windows as Yusuf watched them lose themselves in talk of books.

\-----

At night, Yusuf could almost envision the secret Assassin headquarters the Polo’s had originally built. Presented as a trading post during the day to hide the comings and goings of the Assassins and their allies, at night it would become a place of respite and solace. The heavy door and it’s discrete barring mechanism. The shutters made of reinforced hardwood. The iron gated garden, with enough space that ranked Assassins could teach novices and practice techniques unseen.

The lone candle flickered on Sophia’s desk, drawing Yusuf back to the present. The scratch of nib against paper drifted out into the garden where he lay on the generously carpeted floor. He contemplated the merits of getting up versus how comfortable he was. Eventually, it was the fact that he could not see what the master was up to that had him roll up to his feet.

The master appeared hard at work still, just as he had been left an hour ago, silhouetted against the dying light of his candle stub. As Yusuf watched, he carefully drew the quill down the edge of the page, leaving a glistening red line in its wake. A moment’s pause to consider, then three short, thin lines across the bottom of the long line. As Yusuf approached the master worked in some curls and filled in some shading.

“Are you planning to watch me all night?” The master asked, his eyes never wavering from his work. His quill dipped into the ink for an instant before it was back in motion again.

“Only if you are planning to work through the night.” Yusuf answered casually, leaning against the back of the master’s chair with his left hand. The man did not so much as twitch. Yusuf watched the quill travel over the page, impressed by the progress of only a minute’s work.

“I will work when I choose to. If you want to pester me, then you will lose a night of sleep for very little gain.”

Yusuf gave the top of the man’s head a smirk. “Is that so?” He leaned over further, bracing his right hand against the corner of the desk. “That sounds rather like a challenge.”

“Only to a man seeking trouble.” The master countered, laying down his quill on a rag and stoppering the ink.

“So it’s a challenge made just for me, then. How kind, master.” Yusuf’s mouth quirked into a thinking frown. “What is your name, anyway? Sophia never said.”

“If you are seeking to trouble me, why should I tell you anything?” The master chose a clean quill from among the selection on the desktop.

“Perhaps as a sign of favor?” He offered, practically drinking in the earthy, dusty smell of the man’s hair.

The master’s hand hovered over another ink bottle for a moment before picking it up and replacing the bottle of red. “I think not.”

“Is there no way to convince you otherwise?” Yusuf asked with a subtle suggestion in his voice. “I grow tired of calling you master.”

“Men have begged me to let them call me master.”

Yusuf’s eyes flashed. “Are you telling me to beg for your true name?”

“If you think it would do you any good, by all means,” The seal of the ink bottle clicked against the desktop as the master’s single hand released it. “Debase yourself. I could use the amusement.”

Yusuf slid down to one knee. Just before the master could dip his quill into the inkpot for the first time, Yusuf took hold of the chair’s leg and turned it to face him. The master looked annoyed, and Yusuf thought he might be struck for his presumption. Somehow, that was appealing.

“I think,” He let his left hand rest casually on the man’s knee. “That keeping you amused could be very… rewarding.”

The candle stub flickered wildly, nearing its end. Somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped. The master’s dark eyes were utterly unreadable, but that was half of the reason Yusuf kept pushing. 

“Why are you keeping me from my work?” His voice was soft and low, and Yusuf could not help but lean forward a little.

“Perhaps it is for your amusement?” His hand slid a little higher on the master’s leg, slightly parting his green robe and revealing the dark pants underneath.

The master let out a quiet, humourless laugh. “I think not.”

“Very well,” And Yusuf’s palm slid a little higher as his fingers traced a pattern against the hard muscle underneath silk. “For my own amusement, then.”

“What makes you think I’ll allow this?” The master’s mouth was hypnotic, his voice fascinating, and his eyes still completely inscrutable. Yusuf’s smile was utterly confident as he spread the master’s legs one-handed, his right still ready on the desk to push him away should he need.

“Not a thing.” The master’s knees brushed Yusuf’s ribs as he pressed in closer. “But that’s half of the fun.”


End file.
